


clutching at straws

by amemorymaze



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pain, and i mean a hell of a lot of angst, because i saw a post on tumblr about the always in my heart tweet and i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amemorymaze/pseuds/amemorymaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry sits on the beach, toes dug into the sand and his shirt hanging loose over his shoulders. The journal sits in his lap and a pen in his hand as his curls flow in the cool wind. A shiver runs through his body but he still finds himself unable to find the way to put his thoughts into words.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>Everything is a jumble – a mess of emotions – and Harry doesn’t even know where he would start.</i><br/> <br/><i>He’s never been good with words so the pages stay blank from the stain of ink.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>(or, there's a break-up, a trip to la and a reminder that they will always be in each other's hearts.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	clutching at straws

**Author's Note:**

> because i saw [this post](http://huffleharry.tumblr.com/post/107917817202/someone-write-an-angsty-fic-where-that-tweet-hits) and i couldn't help myself! enjoy... kind of.

He’s in LA as it all begins to happen – struggling to get away from the torture of memories and reminders of everything between them.

But somehow, everything seems to follow him anyway and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get past the heartbreak and the pain. He wonders if there will ever be a time where he will be able to look into those glistening blue eyes without his heartbeat increasing and his hands becoming too sweaty.

He hopes that these weeks will help – will help heal that pain that’s coursing through his chest. He prays that the feeling of despair and loss that he gets every time he wakes up to cold, empty bed sheets next him will fade. Somewhere new, he had thought, somewhere that _he_ doesn’t go. Somewhere that won’t cause memories of them to resurface to the forefront of his mind and make his chest grow tight.

He buys a new journal at the airport – one without the scribblings of his thoughts and feelings of love and hope and the way he felt like stars were burning in his body whenever he looked at him.

He buys a journal that doesn’t scream Louis, Louis, _Louis._ (Even though it’s sure to in a short amount of time.)

Harry sits on the beach, toes dug into the sand and his shirt hanging loose over his shoulders. The journal sits in his lap and a pen in his hand as his curls flow in the cool wind. A shiver runs through his body but he still finds himself unable to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

Everything is a jumble – a mess of emotions – and Harry doesn’t even know where he would start.

He’s never been good with words so the pages stay blank from the stain of ink.

And when he gets a text from Jeff asking if he wants to help him fill Nadine’s car full of pink balloons, Harry blinks his eyes a few times as he stares at the setting sun and drops his journal back into his bag. Sand flying everywhere as he gets up, Harry sighs and tries to put on a cheery voice as he dials a number; “So,” he says, “how many balloons do you think we can fit in there?”

 

+

 

He doesn’t know why he does it – doesn’t know why he decides to check his twitter account, but the moment he does, he regrets it. Amongst the ‘Follow me @harry_styles please’s and the ‘@harry_styles i love you’s, there’s another notification he’s unable to ignore.

His heart is fluttering in his chest as he reads the words over and over again. His chest burning from the lingering pain and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe as he sits on the porch of his home.

The sun is beating down on his head and he’s squinting at the iPhone screen he can barely read, but Harry knows those words like the back of his hand.

“ _Always in my heart @Harry_Styles . Yours sincerely, Louis_ ”

There’s tears prickling at the back of his eyes and he rubs a hand over them, as if it will stop the pain that cursing through his veins.

He breathes deeply and catches sight of the numbers below the tweet and he pauses because _, bloody hell_. That’s a lot of retweets. A smile twitches at his lips and he just closes his eyes and loses himself in the moment. 

There’s pride stretching at his heart and hopefulness that’s searing through his mind. Harry smiles, bright and blinding because of the fans because of their support and he knows that this is a change – this is big.

Harry forgets for a moment what has happened, he forgets everything, and his first instinct is to start typing out a new text with a lot of exclamation marks and love hearts. But he stops himself just as he opens a new text and buries his head in his hands as he sits on the stairs leading to the garden.

It’s like a punch to the chest – that single spark of hope that had ignited has suddenly gone out; burnt out before it could catch.

He breathes deeply, trying to stop the tears and instead types in a different name and a different text; _Let’s get drunk tonight._

 

+

 

He doesn’t remember a lot. He doesn’t remember anything, actually, not past the third tequila shot anyway.

Harry throws himself into the human interaction – chatting to everyone and anyone and wonders if he could actually make good of his womanizer reputation. Jeff asks what’s going on but Harry manages to brush him off with the lure of more alcohol, a charming smile and a dance. He loses himself in the music and the beating pulse of the bass thrumming through the room, in the crowd and the haze of alcohol.

He doesn’t remember much.

But he does remember the scratch of sobs building in his throat as Nadine and Jeff practically carry him to his front door. He remembers the tears flowing as he stutters and slurs out incomprehensible words. He remembers the way that, after shooing his friends from his house, convincing them that he was fine, sitting down on the grass just behind his porch.

Laying down, staring at the stars and twitter open, once again, on his phone, he thinks of Louis Tomlinson. Because, somehow, it always comes back to Louis.

The tweet is there, gaining more and more as the night goes on – even becoming the second most retweeted tweet in history and Harry tries to feel proud but all he can think is that he should be celebrating.

And, god, there’s a tear trailing down his cheek that he doesn’t wipe away and a pain growing a growing because he just misses him so much.

Lifting his phone to his face, he sits up, dialling a number that he knows off the top of his head without thinking.

“Harry?” A voice comes from the speaker and it’s like a shock to Harry’s system – sobering him up. 

Harry feels the tears become stronger and he gasps in a breath; “Did you mean it?”

“What?” Louis says, and Harry can imagine the way that Louis’ face would be scrunched up in confusion. Perhaps snuggled up on that damn sofa that he refuses to get rid of because it’s the first place that Harry gave him a blowjob under a blanket and xbox controller in hand.

“Did you mean it,” Harry begins again, trying to keep the slurring from his words; “Did you really mean I’m always in your heart?”

He hears a short gasps from the end of the line and Harry blinks tears away for the millionth time and looks up at the sky. His curls dangle loosely on his shoulders and his green eyes shine bright in the moonlight.

Louis is quiet, barely breathing and all Harry can hear is the soft chirping of the birds waking up and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

“I – ” Louis says, voice soft and quiet. A whisper; “Of course I did, Haz.”

It’s not much – it’s barely anything – but it feels like the start. It feels, to Harry, like a breath of fresh air. He cries down the phone line, half sobs and half choked up laughter and he hears the same on the other end of the line.

Despite the mess, despite everything that had happened between them, it’s the first time that he’s felt like it is something he could fix.

It’s a spark of hope that’s finally ignited a fire, and Harry knows (and Louis knows) that, eventually, they’ll be alright.


End file.
